Haunting Hannibal
by I. H. Scribe
Summary: Beverly comes back as a ghost and decides she owes Hannibal some misfortune.


Fandoms: Hannibal

Characters: Beverly Katz, Hannibal Lecter

Prompt: ghost!beverly fucking with Hannibal

Prompt Made By: Anon on hannibalkink

Disclaimer: I don't own the following series(es) or any character(s) that follow, and unless _I. H. Scribe_ is listed after _Prompt Made By_ chances are I don't own the idea for this story either.

Note: See this story on my LJ or AO3 for the link to the original prompt.

* * *

Beverly had heard ghost stories before, even seen most of the paranormal reality shows on TV, but she had never really believed in them, much less that she would ever become one, but she didn't have another word for what she was.

She was stuck in Hannibal Lecter's house (walking out the door didn't work, it just led back into Hannibal's house), unable to be seen or heard by anyone (he had just recently had a dinner party where she tried to get the attention of anyone), left with nothing to do but float around, bored out of her mind.

Then, she began to wonder. Surely there had to be something good to being a ghost, right? In a couple of horror movies they could even move things around and throw them at people. Hannibal had left for the FBI to help Jack on a case about half-an-hour ago, so now was the perfect time to practice.

First she tried pushing the wine rack over physically. Being a ghost, she ended up tumbling through it instead.

"Move," Beverly told the rack. "Fall over. Go on. You can do it. Just move. Why am talking to you like you're a little baby? Bleh." She stuck her tongue out at the wine rack.

Beverly cleared her throat, rolled her shoulders, and made an exaggerated gesture with her hands, "Fall over! No? C'mon. There has to be away to do this."

She tried several more times, each time failing. Finally, she screamed in frustration and then yelled out, "FALL OVER ALREADY!"

The wine rack fell to the floor with a loud crash.

"Oh," Beverly said, watching the wine spread out over the carpet from the broken wine bottles. "Awesome." Then she giggled, "That's going to stain. Hannibal's gonna be _so_ pissed. Ha ha!"

Beverly felt tired after she moved the wine rack, not that being tired kept her from watching Hannibal's reaction to his precious carpet being ruined and his irreplaceable wine collection being destroyed. If he hadn't been a cannibalistic serial killer that had framed Will Graham for murder and then killed her, she might have felt sorry for Hannibal.

Instead, she settled for gut-busting laughter. It's not like he, or anyone else for that matter, could hear her. After she calmed down, and got whatever the ghost equivalent to rest was, she was going to see what else she could do.

* * *

A week after the wine rack, Beverly found it was easier to move smaller objects, than it was to move larger ones such as a filled wine rack. For instance, a refrigerator's plug. And Hannibal had several refrigerators and freezers. Thankfully, Beverly's sense of smell seemed to be like her sense of touch – non-existent.

Hannibal returned from a week-long murder case to find all the food in his house had gone bad and the doors of the refrigerators and freezers had been left open to allow the smell to permeate the house. The look on his face was even funnier than the one on his face when he found the fallen wine rack.

* * *

Beverly decided to see what else she could mess with while Hannibal was away. Tucked away in one of his desk drawers in his office was a permanent marker. A thought came to her mind and she dismissed it immediately. She was a grown woman, fully capable of resisting such childish urges.

"Ah, what the hell," she said. "I'm dead already. It's not like he can do anything worse to me."

Beverly wasn't an art buff by any means, but even she could recognize some of the names on the signatures of the paintings she ruined. She was pretty sure Hannibal's art collection was worth more than everything in the FBI building put together (including the things in evidence like drugs and weapons).

Well, it _had_ been worth more than everything in the FBI put together.

She started by giving one of the paintings on the office wall a new _inner frame_ of tiny dicks all pointed towards the center of the painting, getting progressively bolder as she went, and finishing with an all-out gay orgy drawn on the painting on the wall above his bed.

Beverly honestly thought it was her best work ever.

Hannibal certainly didn't share her thoughts when he came home to find his precious paintings defiled and a permanent marker sitting innocently on his bed. On the plus side, Beverly learned some new curse words in several different languages.

* * *

The next morning, Hannibal found four knives missing from his kitchen set. He found them later stuck in his tires. If that wasn't bad enough, sometime during the night, one of his eyebrows had spontaneously disappeared, and a new one had been drawn in its place with the permanent marker that he was sure he had thrown out, but had mysteriously reappeared on the nightstand next to his bed.

To be perfectly honest, Hannibal was just happy there hadn't been a miniature penis drawn on his face instead of an eyebrow. It wouldn't be until he visited Will (using a rent-a-car that he had sanitized before touching without gloves) later that evening, when someone (Chilton of all people) pointed out the one drawn on the back of his neck. Will was unable to answer any of Hannibal's questions, because he was laughing too hard.

At least now he knew why so many people had been snickering when he turned around today. It wouldn't stop him from killing them all painfully and removing their organs of course, but that could wait until he could figure out what was going on in his house. If he didn't know better, he would swear his house was haunted.

* * *

Hannibal didn't bother turning on the lights when he finally got home. He didn't want to see what horror had befallen his poor house today and he knew where everything was anyway. He barely had time to wonder what was happening as he tripped over his end table, tumbled into a lamp, flipped over a chair, and went rolling through a door and down a set of stairs.

His head slammed into a table (which his latest victim was still in pieces on) and he blacked out. Beverly floated by, upside down and grinning.

"Whoopsie," she said, not sounding very apologetic at all. "My bad, man. I probably shouldn't have moved all your furniture."

Beverly hummed and then floated a pencil into the room, and eraser down, began using it to press buttons on Hannibal's cell phone.

"Ooh," she said, "Let's call, Jack."

The phone rang a few times before Jack answered, "Dr. Lecter? Hello? Dr. Lecter, are you there?"

"Maybe he butt dialed you," Beverly heard Jimmy say in the background.

"Hannibal Lecter does not butt dial people." Jack said. Beverly snickered. "Dr. Lecter, hello? Are you there? Hello? I'm going to check on him. You two-" Whatever Jack said next was cut off as the call ended.

Beverly looked at the body on the table. "Uh oh. Somebody is in trouble!" she said in a sing-song voice, before cackling.

* * *

The next few weeks were a blur of action and people. After Hannibal was arrested, the FBI searched the house top to bottom, finding evidence galore, some of which even exonerated Will Graham.

Naturally, the first thing Jack did when Will was released from Chilton's custody was to bring him to the house.

Naturally, the first thing Beverly did when Will entered the room was to flip off Jack, not that he saw her doing it.

Jack led Will down to the area where he had found Hannibal knocked out, and cleared out everyone before leaving Will alone.

With no one else in the room but the two of them, Beverly tried something she hadn't tried since she started screwing with Hannibal. She figured if anyone could see her, it would be Will. She knew she was successful when Will tensed up and gaped in her direction.

"Beverly?" he whispered.

"The one and only Graham. Thanks, you know, for finally catching the bastard."

"It was Jack that caught him," Will said.

"It was you that saw him."

"I should never have sent you after him."

"Yeah, but you did. You want to make it up to me?"

"Is this the part where you tell me killing myself is the only way to cleanse me of my sins?"

"God Will, you're even more morbid than before I kicked the bucket. No, you dufus. You want to make it up to me, you can do it by taking care of yourself. Get better, tell Jack to go fuck himself, and don't let me catch you dying any time soon, you hear me? I'm serious. I see your ass on this side, I'm gonna kick it so hard, you won't be able to sit for a century or three."

Will laughed, "I'll make sure to do that."

"Yeah, you better. And for God's sake Graham, get a fucking girlfriend. Seriously, don't wear any flannel or plaid, smile a little, and let a girl hear your laugh and it'll be easy."

Will blushed and ducked his head, "Anything else?"

"Yeah, stop talking to the ghost, and get out of here, you knucklehead."

When Will jumped, Beverly assumed her attempt to go back to being invisible had worked.

"Bye Beverly," Will whispered, taking one last look around the room, and then leaving.

"Bye Will," Beverly said. She wondered what would happen now that Hannibal was gone. Was she still stuck in the house? She decided to try the door. Whereas before, it just led back into Hannibal's house, there was now nothing but white, shining light.

"Guess I'm done then," Beverly said. "Katz out," she laughed, stepping into the light.

* * *

As always, I am accepting prompts, however, I am not accepting prompts through reviews. If you wish to give me a prompt, please see the Accepting Prompts section of my profile for instructions. Thank you.

I. H. Scribe


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